


Fall or rise, all is the same on the pathway of life.

by BanyanIndigo



Category: Andromeda (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Nonverbal Communication
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:14:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29214009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BanyanIndigo/pseuds/BanyanIndigo
Summary: Harper has lived most of his life in a Nietzschean camp, subjected to the horrors of being interesting to the barbaric people. It isn't until a failure to evacuate him that he believes his suffering to be over, once and for all. That is, until Beka Valentine comes along and ruins it. Now with her by his side, and a new mission to restore the commonwealth, he can finally begin to heal. But his troubles aren't over yet. The Drago-Kazov pride is looking for him, and they are determined to restore what was once theirs.
Relationships: Seamus Harper/Other(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter is written largely from Beka's perspective, but future chapters will be from Harpers. Please read tags. Hope you enjoy!

“A scared animal often retreats to the corners of a room. A scared person often does the same.”  
\- Unknown Poet

Beka finished overloading the door release panel, slamming it shut behind her. The hallway came alive in front of her, six doors creaking open, sparks littering onto the metal floor. She laughed to herself, slipping in the first door. She rifled through the few crates it contained, slipping around a table and chairs to fiddle with the control panel in the corner. It refused to cooperate, her heavy boot landing against it in frustration. She moved on, another two rooms proving empty. 

The fourth one looked empty too. Except, Beka wasn’t an idiot. She knew the difference between an empty room and a room that looked empty. She also knew that both predators and prey employed stealth. 

Running into a stray Nietzschean was at the top of her list of concerns. After all, this was their camp, she was just taking advantage of the solar storm evacuation to loot it. She pressed her body flat against the wall, gun drawn, letting several moments pass. She listened hard, but the only sounds she could hear were her own unsteady breathing, a steady drip of water, the solar storm outside. 

A Nietzschean would have attacked by now. 

She crept around the corner, scanning the room once more. The storm knocked out the main generator, leaving the backup generator lighting. Thin, alternating bands of light floated through the room, not really illuminating anything. She flicked the flashlight hooked to her belt on, keeping it pointed by her feet until she could unfasten it. 

The clicking of her light unclasping sounded jarringly loud, but it wasn’t that that caught her attention. Another sound came from the room, so subtle it could have been her imagination. It sounded like, someones breath hitching. 

A rumble beneath her feet sped up her movements. The camp had been evacuated for a reason. She was running out of time. 

She carefully shone the light through the room, rust covered floors beneath a puddle of murky water took up a corner. Either side of the door was clear as well. She took a deep breath, feeling another tremor beneath her. Now or never. 

The final corner of the room lit up. 

All she could see was a pair of sparsely haired legs, and thin, far too thin, arms wrapped around them. She noted the smooth forearms, free from spikes. 

Another tremor shook the building, prompting the person before her to curl up even tighter. 

“Hey, can you hear me?” 

She lowered her weapon, holding her palm up as she moved closer. 

“I’m here to help, but we’ve got to leave quickly. My ship is right outside, can you stand?” 

She received no response, in fact every word she spoke seemed to make the person retreat further into their corner. 

“Ok look, I came here to find something valuable I heard the Nietzscheans had, but I don’t have enough time to look for it anymore, so unless you come with me I’m going to be leaving here empty handed, never mind that I’d be letting you die. This place was evacuated for a reason, feel those tremors? That’s the solar storm. This camp was built on top of miles and miles of natural gas tunnels. If I leave you here you’ll die in a ball of flames and let me tell you, that isn’t a pretty way to go.”

That seemed to get through, the blond head in front of her lifting slowly. Wide dark blue eyes stared at her. 

“Let me die.”

His voice was raspy and high, eyes unfocused and afraid. 

She had a couple options. She could let him die and face the guilt of that later, stay and try to talk him into coming with her which could lead to both of their deaths, or remove him by force and apologize safely on her ship. 

She didn’t have to think much. 

Holstering her weapon, she took another small step forward. He tucked his head down again, giving her the perfect opportunity. She lunged forward, grabbing his elbows and hauling him up, over her shoulder before he could react. He kicked weakly, spouting something about WANTING to die in a ball of fire, but she ignored his protesting, making her way out the way she came. 

The sky was full of fire, and she briefly stopped to readjust the small man over her shoulder. Ignoring the fact that he had begun to resume his escape efforts, she ran to her ship, only stopping again once she was safely in the Maru’s cockpit. 

She dropped off her new friend, literally, sending him sprawling to the floor. She landed heavily in the pilots seat, thanking every deity she could think of that they made it in time. She noticed the young man scramble to his feet, clinging onto the rail beside her, but it wasn’t until she came out of slip stream that she allowed herself to relax. To take a good look at the man across from her. 

His hair was short, sticking up in every direction, and blond, lighter than her own had ever been. He wore only a shirt, albeit, a very large one, covering him down to the mid thigh. Although, from his small stature, anything might have swamped his frame. He appeared shorter than her, and scary thin, adding to the diminutive appearance. 

And he was staring at her. Terrified. 

“Okay, look. I’m sorry I didn’t warn you but you’re alive right now and that’s gotta count for something. Can you tell me your name at least?”

He still clung to the railing, looking what could be described as nauseous. 

“I,” his sharp features wrinkled slightly. “No ones asked me that in a long time.” 

“Well I’m asking.” She moved past him, trusting him to follow her to the crew quarters. Rummaging though her clothes she managed to find a pair of pants that were a size too small on her, and a thick pair of socks. 

Her trust wasn’t misplaced, when she turned around he was there, bracing himself against the wall. 

“Here. You look cold.” He accepted the clothes, eyes darting around nervously. 

She turned to leave, nodding at him on her way out. As the bulkhead door was closing she caught his words. 

“My name is Seamus Zelazny Harper.”

She hoped she heard him wrong. If not, that was the worst goddamn name she'd ever heard.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I warn you this chapter starts off,,, very unfun. hopefully longer chapters coming in the future. <3

“Dreams haunt men while they sleep. Only true nightmares haunt men while they’re awake.” -Wayfinder Hasturi a.k.a. "The Mad Perseid”

Hands gripped at his thighs, digging bruises into the tender flesh. Harper fought to keep his legs closed, a meager effort against the unstoppable force of the Nietzschean on top of him. Still, he fought, screaming, throat burning with pain, choking between sobs. A bone spike dug into his throat, threats he couldn’t hear being hurled at him. His knees finally gave out, ripped apart as he kicked weakly at the large man crushing him. 

Searing pain tore through him as the Nietzschean pressed forward. Suffocating beneath the smothering weight, Harper thought he was going to die, fucked to death by another nameless Uber. A spike of fear raced through him, the Nietzschean remaining still as stone inside him. He couldn’t die, not like this. Harper wrenched his arms from the bindings, a snap accompanying his broken thumb slipping from the leather cuffs. 

And the Nietzschean began to move. 

He screamed. Murderous and inhuman. 

He pounded and scratched against the Uber’s back, ignoring the new pain radiating through his arms. Hands reaching beneath the large, hairy chest, he pushed with all the strength he had left, another cry tearing from his chest. 

The Nietzschean pounded into him, harder and faster than Harper would have thought possible. 

He drew a knee up and aimed at the larger mans ribs. Not being able to gain any momentum at that angle, he simply dug into the fleshy ribs above him. Finally, finally the Uber pulled back, just enough for Harper to get a look at his face. 

The Nietzschean’s face had no features, a smooth, flat piece of flesh. 

Harpers scream woke him, nearly knocking himself out on the metal ceiling. His chest heaving with short breaths. 

“You okay?!” 

The woman, the one who had carried him out of his nightmare, came running into the room. She looked alert, weapon drawn. 

“I’m sorry.” His voice hurt to talk, mouth and throat as dry as a sober mans liquor cabinet. 

The woman eased, holstering her weapon against her hip. He looked at her, blonde hair curling right up against her sharp jaw. She frowned at him. 

“I’m not asking for an apology, you were screaming, I want to know if you’re ok.” 

Harper nodded, worn out already from the conversation. He hadn’t had anyone to talk to in years. Certainly not anyone that would listen. 

“Good. Sorry to come in here guns blazing.” She sighed. “Want something to eat?”

He nodded again, muscles protesting the short climb down from the top bunk. The ship they were on hummed beneath him, metal grates on the hallway floor amplifying the engine reverb through the thick socks on his feet. 

It wasn’t a long walk to the small cafeteria room, but his lungs burned from the exertion, and his head spun from being off planet. 

The meal the woman set before him was the best thing he’d ever eaten. Bread that was soft and warm, a stew with the most delicious broth, a cup of coffee, strong and actually hot, a dash of creamer adding to the luxury. Harper did try to eat at a normal pace, but every bite made him happier than he’d been in years, he found himself speeding up until he was swallowing the last of the stew, the bowl held up to his mouth. 

The warmth spread through his whole body. He finally allowed himself to breath, accepting that he wasn’t still at the camp. Or at least trying to. Not that it was hard exactly. For months he’d only been allowed to drink from the leak in his cell, and doing so meant kneeling in a puddle of rust and grime until his knees bled just to satisfy a fraction of his thirst. 

So getting a full cup of coffee and a warm bowl of soup was a wakeup call as much as the woman sitting across from him. 

Harper felt bolder now that he’d eaten, and frankly, he wanted to make sure this wasn’t a frying pan to fire kinda situation. 

“So, I’ve told you my name. What’s yours.” 

A funny look flashed over her face, quickly smoothing back out. “Oh yeah, Seamus something Harper right? My name’s Beka.” Beka extended her hand across the table for him to shake. 

“Nice to meet you Beka.” They shook hands, he noticed her firm grip, confidence oozing from her. 

A wave of exhaustion washed over him, and at her request he laid back down in his bunk, snagging a water on the way. It wasn’t long before sleep tugged at his mind, cool water soothing his throat and some of his anxieties. Maybe he would try to talk to Beka in the morning. She seemed nice, one of the nicest people he’d ever met. 

Maybe he could leave the last twenty something years of his life behind. That, he thought as sleep lapped at his mind, that would be a dream come true.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we find out more about Harpers data port. 
> 
> hey guys, hoping theres people out there who are interested in this fandom! if you ARE reading this, maybe check out my ~other works~ because i guarantee theyre better than this :) Maybe. maybe not actually lmao. i am hoping to write more Andromeda fics once this one is further along. <3 love yall

Days passed. What began as a terrifying (albeit seemingly nicer) new chapter to his life quickly became exciting. As soon as he felt less like he’d been tortured and abused for years, he felt the need to expend energy. Actually, he had always been moving his whole life, jittering around like a heavily caffeinated Nightsider, so soon as being on his feet didn’t feel like death he was climbing around the engine room, learning everything about the mechanical beast. The Maru became his obsession, he liked Beka well enough, but he still had trouble vocalizing the endless stream of thoughts coursing through his head around her. 

So he worked. 

He started his day was like any other, waking up to the sounds of the engine and getting dressed, oversized fabrics counteracting the freezing ship. He drank his coffee slowly, counting to ten between bites of his oatmeal to avoid eating too quickly. 

Beka’s voice startled him slightly. “Hey Harper, can you take a look at the shield matrix? It’s been acting up for ages.” 

He glanced up at her smiling face peeking around the corner, offering a small smile in return. “Sure.”

“Awesome! I bet you can use your data port to analyze the system faster. I know I have a spare cable lying around here.” 

And with that, she was off, leaving him to process what she’d said. 

The data port had been drilled into his nervous system by force, and was only ever supposed to serve as a method of hurting him, controlling him, keeping track of his every move. 

The day it had happened he’d made a mistake. A really bad one. 

He’d just been moved to an actual planet camp. Nietzschean’s swarmed through the hallways around him, the grip on his arms roughly dragging him along. They’d drugged him with something, it made the heavy shackles and the hungry stares feel so far away, so insignificant. 

It also made him unconcerned with consequences. 

A door, flanked by two incredibly large Nietzschean’s, opened in front of him. The room before him, unlike so many others, was empty. He would be bunking alone. One of the guard’s entered behind him, and as soon as the door slammed shut he grabbed at him, slamming him to the metal ground and wrenching his still bound legs up. 

In a stroke of unparalleled bravery, or at very least stupidity, he wrapped his ankles around the Nietzschean’s neck, the chain connecting his ankles digging into the large mans throat. He tightened and tightened, a part of him relishing the bulging eyes and reddening face of his tormentor. The mans full weight fell atop him, and with it the realization of what he’d done. 

He’d just killed someone. And unlike fending off Magog and Nietzschean’s back on earth, he’d actually enjoyed it. For the thirty seconds it lasted. 

The door slammed open, hands gripping and dragging him by the hair across the floor. It felt like he was being paraded through the whole camp. 

Until he wasn’t. 

The drugs in his system blurred time, he hadn’t realized his eyes were squeezed shut until he was opening them, looking up into the face of a very pretty, very angry Nietzschean woman. 

He knew he was fucked. 

Two Nietzschean’s, larger than the freakin moon, held him down, hands bruising every inch they touched. She’d spouted some shit about keeping him in line, him not even being worthy of the typical restraints. 

He was still having trouble listening, riding the high of whatever they gave him. 

Until the drilling started. 

Sudden, overwhelming pain spread through his whole body, every nerve lighting up with white hot agony. He smelt the metal burning and cauterizing his flesh. The sensation of millions of angry bees crawled beneath his skin. 

He heard more than felt his own screaming, almost thankful for one of the Nietzschean’s removing his belt and shoving it between his teeth. 

He blacked out when he heard his own bone crunch beneath the drill. 

Waking up was almost worse. His limbs burned and itched, sweat covered every inch of his body, his eyes had never felt so dry. 

But the shackles were gone. The shackles that had sat against his skin for years, chafing and weighing him down. 

He might actually have a chance to escape. 

Harper crept up to the door on his knees, too weak to stand. He listened, not hearing any immediate noises of danger. 

He touched the door, and instantly fell backwards, electricity pulsing through every nerve in his body. Crap, they’d implanted a shock collar into his freakin neck. 

As long days stretched on he discovered new, painful uses for the data port. All the walls, not just the door, shocked him. If he attempted to resist he got shocked, if he yelled or screamed or even asked for water he got shocked, if he fucking pissed wrong he got shocked. 

And then he got out. The door opened and he ran, ducking underneath the arm of a particularly slow guard. His lungs burned as he ran, stomach cramping, but he kept going, taking every other turn until the footsteps of his pursuers faded into the distance. He realized the shocks weren’t administered by anyone, the device shocked him when he did certain things. It was only when someone was in the room with him that it was done by hand. 

If he could run fast enough, they’d never be able to get him. 

It must have been late, he only had to avoid a few tired looking Nietzschean’s walking through the hallways. Every one looked the same, but he knew that all main roads lead out eventually. 

And he was right, three turns later and an airlock greeted him. He slipped inside. One of the walls was lined with protective gear. Harper debated taking one, but just by looking he could tell they would be too big. The oversized shirt he wore felt more like being naked than ever. 

He only had one chance, get out now and run or wait and most definitely get caught. 

Harper slammed the big red button, exiting into the dark night. 

It was freezing and windy, gravelly ground cutting into his feet with every step. He only looked back once, seeing the camp spread out along the bottom of a valley, thankfully, he was still alone. 

He finished running up the incline, not stopping until he could put several more hills between himself and the camp. Of course, he had to escape in the middle of a snowstorm. Nothing but grey rocks and snow dotted the landscape. A large imposing mountain sat on the horizon, and he only slowed once he reached the base, staggering into a cave. It was actually more of a crevice, but it had enough room for him to crawl to the back and collapse into a sweating feverish mess. 

He’d stayed in the cave for three days, waiting out the blizzard, catching white beetle-like insects to eat. They crunched like hell, but it was better than the hunger tearing at his stomach. 

Harper didn’t have a plan, didn’t have any way of getting off this freaking Nietzschean infested planet, but he was alive for fuck’s sake, and that had to amount for something. 

The ground was so cold beneath him, curled up on the cave floor. He knew hypothermia was way past the point of setting in, his fingers wouldn’t close, his toes were cramped and discolored. 

It was almost a relief when an ugly Nietzschean bastard dragged him out, hoisting him over his shoulder. His warm, not covered in insects, vaguely comforting shoulder. It wasn’t until days later and several very creative punishments that he realized how they found him. 

The data port could track him. 

That’s why, on the first night on the Maru, he’d found a knife, tearing at his skin, trying to pry the goddamn thing out of his neck. 

It hadn’t worked. Obviously. 

But Beka had been kind enough to help him disable the locator function without a word, not questioning why he had it or why it was surrounded by fresh wounds. 

He sat there, staring into his empty bowl, possibilities flew through his head. 

Maybe the device that had tormented him for so long could actually be useful. Maybe even make him a worthy member of the Maru’s crew. After all, he was already a genius.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally introducing more characters! i promise the rest are coming soon. i already have a scene with tyr planned out. i apologize for the unbeta'd and comma heavy writing. i write through the night so sorry for any errors.

“Alright Harper, I’m gonna be gone for a bit. Watch the Maru for me?” 

Beka tugged her jacket on, hand coming to rest on her weapon holstered at her hip. He’d noticed she did that a lot when she got nervous. Not like she didn’t have reason to be, they’d docked at a Nightsider casino, one of the big ones, and whatever job Beka’d gotten had her pitted against the Nightsiders. Never a smart place to be. 

Harper shook his head as she was pulling on her boots. If she was nervous, maybe he could help. 

“What do you mean no? You have other plans?” She teased, eyebrows disappearing into her choppy bangs. 

He sat next to her, thoughts racing. He could tell her he wanted to come, and risk danger to himself and possibly even hinder her, but it had been months since she’d rescued him. He wanted to repay her for saving his life, for allowing him to live and work on her ship. 

“Could I come with you?” His voice was still quieter than it used to be, before the Nietzscheans stole years of his life, but at least it worked again. “You want to come? Why? This place is a shit hole Harper.” He shrugged. Okay, so his voice worked SOMETIMES. “Listen,” She pulled a communicator out of her bag. “How about this.” She pressed the device into his palm. “You keep on comms with me and if something goes wrong, you get me out.” The cold metal stung his hand slightly. She must be really worried to not fight him on this. 

“How?” 

Beka gestured to the weapons locker. “Pick one and follow my signals.” She put her hand on his shoulder, the touch making him flinch slightly before he could relax into it. 

“You got it?” He nodded in affirmation. “Harper if you’re gonna do this you have to talk to me so I know comms are working. Can you do that?”

“Yeah boss. I got it.” He smiled and tossed her a wink. 

He could do this. 

Every few minutes he checked her position on the communicators map, radioing one or two words to confirm he was still there, could still see her moving through the casino, receiving a clipped response each time. Her indicator dot moved through several designated gaming rooms, past a few bars and private rooms, coming to stop outside a room labeled “Office” on the map. She didn’t move for several minutes. “I still got you boss.” No response. 

Her indicator finally moved to the center of the office room, a symbol flashing in the corner of his screen. She’d muted him. 

Harper watched minutes tick past, the unmoving indicator of his only friend blinking away steadily. At last the mute symbol disappeared, but his relief was short lived as her staticky message came through. 

“Harper!” A loud bang came through the speakers, followed by weapons fire. “Gonna need some backup!”

He shot up, grabbing a lightweight gun from the wall to holster in his tool belt. Harper ran through the gaudy casino, dodging intoxicated patrons and hissing Nightsiders, burying his anxiety, ignoring the hair that stood up on the back of his neck at being around so many people. Holding the comm unit, he maneuvered mostly by memory, glancing down occasionally to insure he was still heading towards Beka. 

He only stopped right outside the office, clipping the comm unit to his belt and unholstering his weapon. Now or never. 

The door had a keypad entry, but it looked old and rusted out. He aimed his gun at the wall next to it where the power relay should be located. 

BANG

Fuck, he hadn’t thought about the noise attracting the attention of every Nightsider around, but at least the door did hiss open, sparks littering out across the floor from the blasted out panel. Better in there with Beka than out here with pissed off rat bastards, he thought. 

Harper ducked inside, quickly scrambling to the ground to avoid a shot to the face. “Harper!” Beka was barricaded behind an overturned desk, returning fire at their assailants. 

And she wasn’t alone. A woman huddled beside her, lavender skin sparkling in the overhead lighting. Her hands were bound in front of her, youthful face scrunched up in concentration as her, tail worked at undoing the lock. Why did she have a tail?

He managed to throw himself behind the desk as well, popping over the edge to shoot every few seconds. 

“Who is this?!” 

He hadn’t meant to yell, and it clearly startled the purple girl, her tail slipping from the locked handcuffs in surprise. Beka didn’t respond to his question, motioning to the door with the barrel of her gun, raising her eyebrows. He would have to draw the fire away from them. 

He nodded, grimacing as he stood. 

“Hey Rat-Face! Pick on someone your own size!” He ran across the room as fast as he could, ducking behind a console before quickly returning fire. Beka began to pull the purple lady along, now free of the handcuffs. All that was left was a short dash to the door, but they would be completely out in the open. 

“Get the girl!” The raspy voice of the Nightsider boss guy cut through Harpers indecision. He yelled for Beka to go, jumping between the line of fire and his friend. The last thing he saw was the sneer of a rat like nose, a searing pain shooting through his body. The world got too loud, and then too soft, echoing through his head as he vaguely felt the back of his skull connect with the ground. 

The comforting hum of the Maru settled into his skin first. Waking up was a familiar process, he was in pain, aching and alone, ripping his mind away from a dreamless sleep. But he became aware that the pain was concentrated in his chest and his head instead of his lower half. That was new. Piece by piece time came back to him. He’d been shot, clearly somewhere in his chest, but that didn’t explain why he was waking up to tell about it. Nightsiders weren’t known for using stun weapons, and it definitely didn’t feel like they’d changed tactics now. 

The Maru’s muted lighting greeted him as his eyes cracked open. He was alone in his quarters, laying on the bottom bunk. Ordinarily he slept on the top bunk, but it was becoming evident that he hadn’t walked back to the Maru on his own, though the idea of Beka trying to hoist him up there did make him laugh into the empty room. 

Standing didn’t feel great, but he’d gotten through much worse than an aching chest and splitting headache, and the mysterious purple girl was on his mind. Clearly she was a part of Beka’s mission, and something told him that she was the reason he was still around. 

Harper made his way down the hallway. Beyond the steady thrum of the engine he could hear muffled voices, and as he got closer it was apparent one of them belonged to Beka, the other, a soft, melodic, feminine voice, must belong to the purple lady. He crept close to the wall, avoiding stepping on the grate covering the center of the corridor. Usually he enjoyed the clanging noise it made, but he wanted the edge of sneaking up on the two women. He wasn’t very good at the whole trusting people thing, and there was only one brig on the Maru, which was on the other end of the ship. Which meant the weird pretty lady was most likely free to roam the ship. 

He wasn’t going to take any chances. 

Harper stopped a few feet from Beka’s quarters, where the voices spilled out into the metal hallway. 

“So you’re saying you’re a prophet.” Beka’s voice was hard but not unfriendly. Like she was reasoning with a good friend. 

“No, not a prophet. But I do know things. Things I can’t explain. I’m very grateful for you rescuing me, but”

“I didn’t MEAN to rescue you, we were supposed to be on our way to Inaris.”

“Yes,” The sweet voice continued, despite the interruption. “But you did rescue me, and I am very grateful. Now I’m telling you to get out of this system. Your ship can slipstream right? It would be very wise of you to listen to me.”

Harper noticed that she didn’t sound threatening in the least. In fact, the purple lady sounded genuinely concerned for their safety. Pff, she’s probably just scared for herself he thought. But then again, something was telling him that wasn’t true. Beka scoffed in the other room. “I don’t know what it is about you Trance, but I’m inclined to believe you.” The air stilled.

“Woah hey!” He exclaimed, staring at the purple face peeking around the door frame. “Are you gonna come in and introduce yourself or do you want to keep standing here for a while longer?” She asked. Everything about her was strange, but she did put him at ease, actually, she was the first person beside Beka he’d been able to stand being around. 

“I’ll come in.” He took her outstretched hand, allowing her to lead him to a seat on Beka’s bed. 

The purple girl, Beka had called her Trance, stood facing them. “I’m sure you have questions, both of you. But right now, we really need to leave.” She focused on Harper, he felt her dark eyes boring into his skull. “You’re running from the Nietzscheans. And they’re coming for you.”

He felt all his hair stand on end. Turning to Beka, she shook her head. She hadn’t told Trance anything. 

“Ok, so you’re saying the Nie- You’re saying they can track me still?” His voice shook slightly. 

“I don’t know how or why but they know you were at the casino. And they’re coming. You know this can’t end well. Please. Trust me.”

Beka stood. “I think I do. Harper?”

He stared at the woman across from him. She was so… sincere. Almost like a child, her face open and honest. As much as he wanted to curse her out and ignore her claims, he had to admit, he believed her. 

His face twisted into a frown, but he nodded to Beka anyway. She returned the gesture and sprinted from the room, leaving him alone with Trance. 

“I’m sorry, I’m not trying to frighten you Harper.”

He wanted to ask her how she knew his name, his past, his fears, wanted to question her about how he miraculously healed from a chest wound. But he was so tired, voice caught in the back of his throat once again. 

Shaking his head in what he hoped feigned indifference, he left her behind, crawling down to the engine. He fixed minor wiring issues, increased the heat in his shower, adjusted the energy output on the auxiliary shields, anything to keep his hands busy, all while bracing through several trips through slipstream. He mentally thanked Beka for following Trances instructions. Bullshit or not, he felt better and better the further they traveled. 

He stayed in the engine room and various conduits for the rest of the day, slipping into the Maru through his data port several times, finding comfort in the ships problems, and his logical solutions. It didn’t stop the nagging feeling that Trance was waiting for him to come talk to her. 

Cousin Isaac back on Earth was deaf, and he had learned some signs so they could talk when they were kids. Came in handy now, Harper thought, opening a visual to Beka’s quarters, where she now sat alone. Of course, it only came in handy because Beka was willing to learn too, god in a different universe he would have been madly in love with her. Too bad he was in this one. 

“Hey Harper.” She sat in front of the screen, taking a swig from her electrolyte drink. “Done talking for the day?” 

He nodded. She knew him too well. “Where is she?” He signed. 

“I’m letting her sleep in the storage room. She seems to like it. We should talk, meet me up here?”

“Ten minutes.” He signed in response, severing the connection. Beginning the crawl back through the access tunnels gave him time to think about what he wanted to ask Beka, and by the time he slipped into her quarters his mind was racing, fingers twitching against his thighs. 

“You wanna start?”

He thought for a second before signing. “She saved my life.”

He didn’t phrase it like a question, but Beka answered anyway. “Yeah, she did. I honestly don’t know how, but you’re alive because she, I don’t know, she fixed you Harper.”

“Okay. Who is she?” He signed, already moving past the confirmation of his suspicion. 

Beka signed, leaning back in her chair. “I don’t know exactly. What I do know is that I was hired by the Inari. I was supposed to pick up a package from the Nightsiders and deliver it to them. Easy job right? Well when I got there I found Trance. They were selling her Harper. She was a hostage or a prisoner or SOMETHING but whatever she was she didn’t deserve to be delivered like a slave.”

She spat out the last word as he flinched. No one deserved that life, and they both knew it. 

“What do you know about her?”

“Her name is Trance Gemini. She was detained by the Nightsiders after winning one too many games, which, if she was right about the Nietzscheans, I can see why. She didn’t tell me much more than that, but I’m assuming those rat faced assholes started searching for the highest bidder for her as soon as they could. She said that the Inari wanted to experiment on her, as revenge for something someone else did. That’s not fair, and” She shook her head. “I can’t imagine turning her over to them.” 

He processed what she said for a minute. “What do you want to do with her?” He signed, knowing Beka well enough to assume the answer. 

“I want!” She stood and paced, running a hand through her short hair. “I want to make her part of the crew. Something tells me that she’s, I don’t know, lucky I guess? But, I need you to agree. This isn’t a decision I can make on my own. Not that I can be sure she would WANT to, but, you’re my crew Harper. You have to agree for me to even ask her.”

“If I don’t want her here?” He signed. 

“Then, we find her a nice planet or something and we drop her ass off. I’m not gonna lie, I think she would be good to have around. Not just as a good luck charm. For us too. But, you just say the word and she’s gone. What’s it gonna be Harper?”

It didn’t take long for him to respond. “I want to ask her. Myself.” 

She tilted her head ever so slightly, one eyebrow raising. “Ok. Go for it.” He started to walk out, stopping as she grabbed his arm. “You think she can understand your signs don’t you.” He only nodded. “Yeah. Me too.”

All his nerves tingled as he walked to the storage room. He already knew the answer to his question. She would join them. But he needed to hear her say it. 

The metal door made a satisfying sound as he knocked. 

“You can come in Harper.”

Ignoring that she knew who was at the door, he entered, shutting the door behind him. 

“The boss and I wanted to know if you would join our crew.” He signed, keeping his eye on her where she sat on the cot. 

“Why Harper!” She smiled wide, pearly teeth contrasted against her odd colored skin. “I thought you’d never ask!” Before he knew it She jumped up and squeezed him tightly. His heart pounded, adrenaline coursing through his bones. No one had hugged him since he was nine years old. But after a moment, he realized. Anyone else and he would had been fighting for his life by now, but something about the woman hugging him made him calm down, breathing in her strangely fruity smell, relishing the touch he hadn’t realized he’d been missing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit of a longer one this time. i think ive decided not to include rev bem as a character, partly because i didnt like him that much, partly because i dont think he would fit in well with the story so far. i might change my mind later, we will see. also yes, i know i stopped adding in the quotes in the beginning. it was an accident but i was having trouble coming up with them anyway. hope you enjoy!

Harper watched Beka from his seat at the bar. She sat across from Gerentex, who was waving his hands around animatedly. 

“Are you going to order something little man?” He turned to the bartender, who’s reptilian face scowled back at him. 

Harper sighed, pulling some money from his belt, slapping it down on the counter. “Get me a Sparky Cola will you?” Grunting, the bartender slammed one down in front of him, sliding his payment into his hand. 

Taking the first sip sent a fuzzy feeling through his veins. The soda claimed to be both a narcotic and an alcoholic beverage, but no one new for sure. Taking another sip, sweetness burning his tongue, he thought it was probably just full of sugar. 

Beka made her way back over to him through the crowded room. “Alright, we’re leaving tomorrow morning.” She sat at the bar next to him, ordering a shot of that nasty liquor she liked. “God,” She downed the clear liquid in one fluid motion. “Gerentex is such an asshole, but at least he’s overpaying.”

“Overpaying by how much?” He asked, picturing Beka raising the price of a salvage job just because she got pissed off. 

“Lets just say you’ll be able to afford that surf trip you’ve been whining about, and then some.” 

He hadn’t been whining! Well maybe a little, but having Trance to talk to had really helped him work through his vocal problems, and being able to talk meant he did, a LOT. Of course, there where still plenty of times when talking was way too tiring, but there wasn’t ever any awkward silence with Trance. And he couldn’t help it if he enjoyed the freedom of expressing himself, fast and loud. 

Of course, he knew Beka was just teasing him, she enjoyed his presence (most of the time) and was happy to see him working through shit. They were coming up on a year since she rescued him, and she had gotten him a cake that was currently sitting in the freezer back on the Maru. 

He held his can out for her to clink with, laughing as the alcohol (or sugar or whatever was in his drink) settled into their veins. 

“And what are you gonna do with your cut?”

“I’m gonna pay off my debts, upgrade the Maru, and buy myself a new pair of boots.” She downed another shot, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “I bet Trance is gonna buy more plants.” 

He actually giggled at that. Trance had very quickly transformed the storage room into a cozy space, complete with more plants than he could count and a very comfy hammock. They often sat together after he’d finished working for the day, him snuggled into the soft ropes of the hammock while she took care of her plant children. 

Four drinks later and he’d moved on to drinking some beer that tasted like caramel, enjoying the buzz it gave him. Beka had attracted quite a crowd when shed decided to play darts, mostly because she was getting bullseyes between stumbling to do another shot. Damn, she was impressive. 

Harper finished another glass of beer, keeping an eye on his friend.

Something felt wrong. He turned casually to look at the door, just in time to see two Nietzschean’s entering the bar. His whole body tensed, eyes widening as he watched them take a seat at a booth. Sliding off the stool and crossing the room to get to Beka felt like it took forever. 

“Boss we have to go.” 

She turned to him, eyes glazed. “Why? I’m having so much fun!” She gestured wildly around the room. 

“Can you just listen to me please?” He knew he looked scared, several people around them scoffing and laughing at him. 

“No, I’m the captain, you have to listen to me. And I say we stay and have another round!” She poked a finger into his chest. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.” With that she turned her back to him, rearing back to throw another dart at the board. 

Fine. He could walk back to the Maru by himself. No problem. 

Except the Nietzscheans were sitting by the door. He was sweating through his T-shirt, having drawn the attention of almost everyone in the bar after Beka’s outburst. 

Okay, he could do this, he thought to himself, rubbing over the sensitive skin around his data port to hide it from view. He slipped through the door, heart racing as he started the walk back to where the Maru was docked. 

He headed straight there, not wanting to waste any more time on this dump of a station. That is, until he passed a rack of sunglasses, intensely reflective, noticing one of the Nietzscheans from the bar walking several paces behind him. 

Goddammit. 

He ducked into the store, moving through aisles of cheap clothes and knick knacks. Snagging a jacket three sizes too big and shrugging it over his slight frame. The small store had two open walls, he ducked through the side opposite where he’d come in, pulling the jackets hood over his head and walking into a nearby stall. Over and over he weaved around the station, taking a hat and glasses from two different shops to further conceal his identity. 

Not knowing if he was still being followed, he drew closer to the Maru. Of course, it wouldn’t matter how good he ran, if the Nietzscheans really were following him it would be through of the data port, and if they were tracking him that way there wouldn’t be anywhere he could hide. 

He cursed the tendrils of metal curling around his nervous system, wires crawling like worms through his brain and under his skin. 

If that was how they found him, he would never be free. 

The corridors of the station near the docking bays were gratefully empty. He keyed in the door code for the Maru, leaning back against the door behind him, a deep breath of relief escaping him. 

“Harper?”

Trance stared at him from the doorway of her room. 

“Oh my sweet purple angel, how glad I am to see you.” He hugged her, relaxing into her arms. 

“Are you okay? Where’s Beka?” 

“There, there where Nietzscheans at the bar and I tried to get her to leave but she wouldn’t so I left, right! But then I noticed one of the bastards behind me so I had to sneak around the whole goddamn station and I’m FAIRLY certain I wasn’t followed but I’m really freaking out Trance.”

She held him at arms length for a moment. “Okay, I’m going to go get Beka and,”

“No! You can’t leave me here trance! Please,”

“Alright, I’ll try her comm unit instead. How did things go with Gerentex?”

“Great,” They walked together to the bridge. “We are all set for tomorrow morning. We were, um, celebrating.”

“That’s why Beka stayed. She’s drunk isn’t she.”

“Just a little!”

Trance stood at the comm station, shaking her head, but Harper saw the curve of a smile on her lips regardless. 

“Come on Beka.” Trance sighed. “She shut off her comm unit. I can’t even track her.”

“You should go get her. She was at the bar when I left.” He stated. Of course he didn’t want her to leave, but having Beka around would make him feel safer, drunk or not. 

“Are you sure Harper?”

He nodded, every bone in his body telling him to have Trance stay. But Beka could be in trouble, and without being able to reach her they didn’t have much of a choice. 

“I’ll be back soon.” She put both her hands on his shoulders, looking down slightly to meet his eye. She reminded him of a fairy from some old stories he’d been told back on Earth. 

“Be safe and don’t let anyone in besides me and Beka.” 

He laughed. “Who do you think I am? I’ll be fine Trance.”

Nodding, she turned and headed for the airlock. 

Ten minutes passed, he sat on his bunk and fidgeted, watching Trances indicator arrive at the bar and stay there for several minutes. The blinking dot burned into his retinas. And then she was off, moving, not towards the Maru, but away from it. Dammit, did she not find Beka, or was she in trouble? Why was he feeling the need to put himself in danger to save these idiots all the time? Because, he reminded himself, those two idiots where his best (and only) friends. 

He grabbed his gun from the table in his quarters, securing it to his belt. He was gonna find Trance, Nietzscheans be damned. 

Following her indicator was hard when he kept scanning his surroundings, every time he looked down she was even further away. Eventually he broke into a run, still keeping an eye out for bastards with arm spikes. 

He knocked into someone accidentally, she had come out of a shop unexpectedly. He apologized quickly without even looking at the woman. “Excuse me, you almost knocked me over.” He skidded to a stop, turning to look at her. She glared at him. Shopping bags hung from her arms, and two had fallen to the ground, several items rolling away from them. “Pick these up.”

He huffed, scanning the hallway. Luckily, they were alone, no Nietzschean’s, no anyone in fact, and he quickly bent down to gather her belongings. 

A sharp pain flooded his senses, reaching up with one hand he felt a syringe poking out of his neck. He fell to the floor. Fuck, she’d drugged him with something, it wasn’t putting him to sleep, just diluting his senses and seizing his muscles. 

Harper couldn’t move. 

It didn’t seem to matter too much to his assailant, her arms slipped beneath his to hoist him up, bone blades digging painfully into his sides. Shit, she was a freakin Nietzschean. 

She dragged him into a back access hallway, moving in the direction Trance had been going. 

He lost track of time, staring up in the only direction he could, catching glimpses of the woman’s face every once in a while. She didn’t even look like dragging him was difficult. If he was going to be kidnapped, he would prefer to be a burden. 

The thought almost made him laugh. Which wasn’t right, he should be panicking right now, terrified and fighting for his freedom. But he wasn’t. 

It must have been the drugs. The Nietzschean’s had drugged him before, only a few times, mostly when they were transporting him, and it did kinda feel like this. 

Like he had smoked one of those funny cigarettes his cousin Declan had one time, bitter and musky, the smoke had curled into his lungs and lightened his mood considerably, which, for nine year old Harper, was already pretty light. 

His mind drifted back to Earth, the only happy memories he had beyond the past year. Declan was always rebellious and adventurous, leading Harper on his first mission against the Nietzschean’s when he was just eight years old. 

Isaac was calmer, teaching Harper his language, and telling him stories from books he’d read. Brendan was the oldest, almost ten years older than Harper. He also lived the farthest away, but always made sure to bring him something fun to play with or fix whenever he visited. 

He thought about his parents, he looked a lot like his mom, blond, blue eyed, and slender. He could picture her telling him she loved him, running her hands through his messy hair. His dad took more thinking, the heavyset man never interacted with him unless he could help it. He did remember looking into his green eyes, being told the news of what happened to Isaac and Declan, the choice they were facing. 

He was ten years old when he watched them screaming for death, Magog larvae struggling beneath the skin of their stomachs. He was ten years old when he’d watched them die at the hands of his own father. 

He was ten years old when he was taken. 

“Why are you crying pathetic kludge?”

He hadn’t realized he had been, tears drying against his skin. He was sat in a hard metal chair, arms and legs bound to it. Must have spaced out for a while he thought. 

“I was thinking about what my boss is gonna do to you once she finds me.” He mustered a half smile. “She’s gonna be so pissed.”

Whatever she’d given him must be wearing off, the panic he should have felt all along was creeping in. 

“Oh, you mean the angry drunken blonde? We took care of her already. Or maybe you mean your purple friend. She won’t be coming to help you either.”

Shit shit shit, time to panic now. He pulled at the cuffs attaching him to the chair, the metal cutting into his skin. 

“What do you want from me?!” He struggled against his own breathing, head spinning as he gasped for air. 

“Katya was so upset to find you missing. You were so helpful in keeping her troops content.” The woman moved in front of him. “She wants you to come home.”

He never bothered to learn the name of the woman who tormented him. He wouldn’t bother remembering now. 

The woman turned to leave, and the thought occurred to him that they were on a ship, ready to leave as soon as she left the room. 

“Wait! What’s your name?” 

She turned back to face him. Her bone blades flared out slightly. “I am Parvati.” 

“I’ve never seen a female Nietzschean soldier before.” He nodded to the insignia on her uniform. 

“I am infertile. Other prides would have killed me as a child. The Drago-Katzov’s allowed me to live, and become a soldier. I am allowed to bring honor to my family and my pride. We are a strong and merciful pride.” A far off look came across her face. 

“A merciful pride that tortures their slaves.”

Well that made her angry. She glared at him, striding across the room to press her arm spikes against his throat. He recoiled as far back as the chair would let him, fear coursing through his body. 

“You haven’t experienced Nietzschean torture. Be glad you’re used for pleasure.” She leaned in close to his ear, bone cutting across his skin. His breath caught, he could feel a couple drops of blood trickle down his neck, beneath his collar. 

“You’re treated better than most slaves could ever hope for. Don’t make me show you what you’re missing.”

She pulled back from him, turning on her heel and striding to the door, leaving without another word. 

As soon as she wagon he resumed struggling against the hand cuffs. They’d taken his tools but left his belt, and he’d bet his life on the thought that they hadn’t found his hidden laser knife. He didn’t have a choice. 

The metal was unyielding around his wrist, just enough slack to scrape across his skin uncomfortably. 

He tugged and tugged, feeling his thumb begin to ache. Damn it, he didn’t have a choice. He placed his left thumb inside his fist, squeezing until the bone snapped, a small cry escaping from his mouth. 

The pain was worth it, his hand now slipped easily out of the restraint. He quickly fumbled for his belt, finding the tiny sliver of metal beneath his aching fingertips. God, he was never more thankful for being a paranoid genius. Pulling it free from the lining of his belt, he got to work cutting through the right handcuff. Once his dominant hand was free he freed his ankles, holding his left hand close to his chest. He crossed the room, hunching down next to the door. There was a camera in the corner, but not indicator that it was active, he’d gotten this far without interruption. 

He stayed crouched by the door for another minute, listening for any sign of incoming footsteps, but he heard none.

The doors keypad didn't require a code, and pressing the single access button allowed him to venture into the hallway. It must've been a small crew, maybe even just the woman on this ship. There was no one in sight. They didn't seem to be moving either, no hum of engines or subtle lunching beneath him. There were two directions he could go, to the left he saw an airlock. he knew he could make a run for it before they decided to leave the station. To the right he saw more doors like the one he just came out of, and if Beka and Trance were still alive he knew he had to get to them. 

He went right, hoping to whatever gods existed that he didn’t open a door to the Nietzschean common room, or worse yet, any crew quarters. 

The first door he opened was to a storage room, and his fear subsided slightly. He had his gun back, and his comm unit. He also found Beka and Trances things, the familiar objects heavy against his hips. There was only one thing he could do to find them. He slipped his data cable from his pocket, quickly connecting himself to the ship. 

The journey in was just like entering the Maru, and the inside wasn’t so different either. He found the camera feed, confirming the single woman was working on the bridge. Next he looked for Trance and Beka, breathing a sigh of relief at finding them in a room two doors down, bound and unconscious but otherwise seemingly unharmed. 

He then cut all the camera feeds for the whole ship. And most of the lights, while he was at it. 

He ran down the hallway, opening the door to the brig. Beka was slumped over onto Trance, who was looking slightly more awake. “I thought you’d never show up.” She smiled wearily, holding out her bound hands. He made quick work of all their bindings with the laser knife. Sliding one arm beneath Beka’s weight, he unholstered his weapon from his belt, passing it to Trance. “You good to cover us?” 

She nodded, going first out into the hallway. They all clamored into the airlock, Beka’s larger frame crushing him slightly, her breath stinking like the alcohol she drank. 

Once back on the station Trance returned his gun, grabbing Beka by the legs and hoisting her over her shoulder. He didn’t know she was THAT strong. They ran, sticking to the crowded corridors and ignoring the confused stares. 

Getting back to the Maru felt like heaven, Harper allowed himself a moment of rest, sitting on the floor of the bridge, blinking absently at the ceiling. 

The girls walked in after him. Beka groaned as Trance set her down, now awake but still bleary eyed. “What happened?” She slurred, rubbing her head. 

“Get us out of here Beka.” Trances voice was controlled, as per usual, but she seemed exhausted. 

“What are you crazy? I can’t pilot right now I’d kill us all. I can barely see you right now never mind my controls.” 

Harper knew what to do. But it unfortunately required going back onto the station. “We need Gerentex. If we can convince him to leave early for the job he can pilot us out, at least as far as undocking us from the station and getting up into an orbit. That way you can get us into slipstream when you’re feeling better boss.”

“No! No way is that rat faced idiot touching my ship!”

“Beka, it’s the only way. Trust me.” 

Beka swayed, gripping on to the control panel next to her for dear life. 

“If you let him get us out of here you can take a nice long nap.” He offered. 

She nodded, “Fine, but make sure he doesn’t break anything, or I’ll kill him.” She waved goodbye, stumbling off to her quarters. 

“I’ll get Gerentex. You stay here and guard the ship.” Trance had that “mess with me and you’ll regret it I’m in charge now” face on, he didn’t see it often, but when he did he knew better than to question her. 

“You got it.”

Only minutes after she’d left she returned, a grumbling Nightsider in tow. 

“I don’t understand why this couldn’t have waited until morning.” He sneered. 

“You don’t NEED to understand. Now kindly get us into orbit around the nearest planet and we will leave for the salvage job as soon as our captain is over her stomach illness.”

He groaned and complained all the way to the cockpit, but all of them knew he was interested in the ships systems enough to accept the schedule change. 

“One planetary orbit coming up.” 

And with that they left the station, every passing second bringing both relief and dread into Harpers mind. Relief at having escaped, dread at knowing for sure that the Nietzscheans could track him. At least it didn’t seem like the most efficient tracking in the galaxy, he had some time to work out how to permanently delete that function before they could find him again. He hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are always appreciated. i love hearing your thoughts!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we are moving in to canon territory! except totally not. sorry. also, im rewatching the first few episodes to get some stuff in the beginning right, so any deviation is on purpose. again, no rev bem, but have half a second of tyr! (SLIGHT SPOILERS) please be warned, this chapter depicts traumatic flashbacks as i experience them, so please keep that in mind. i totally dont project onto characters i like. nope. not at all. also, another warning, this chapter VERY BRIEFLY mentions when Harper was first taken, when he was TEN. but nothing explicit, just a general memory of being handcuffed and having a nietzschean talk to him. no dialogue. also, another description of the time he killed a guard. a bit,,, worse this time but still nothing horrible. proceed with caution please dears.

Beka stumbled into the cafeteria, bleary eyed, blonde hair sticking up in odd directions. 

“Is it tomorrow already? I passed Gerentex in the hallway and I’m in my freakin underwear,” She gestured down to her skinny legs protruding from a pair of boxers. “So either I’m having THAT nightmare again or someone better explain what’s happening.”

Trance giggled, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth. 

Laughing himself, Harper wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “Aw thanks boss I really needed a good laugh this morning.” 

Her mouth turned down into a grimace. “So I take it this isn’t a dream.” She poured herself a cup of coffee, downing half the cup in one gulp and quickly refilling. Rounding the table, she plunked into the seat next to Harper, adjusting her underwear to cover more of her legs. 

“Alright. It’s time for one of you to explain.”

“All three of us ran into some,” Trance looked at him for a second before continuing. “Nietzscheans, On the station. We got back last night but you weren’t able to pilot. Gerentex was able to get us into orbit around the planet a day early.”

“He didn’t slipstream right? I’ll kill the bastard.”

“No he didn’t. But we need you to get us to the location of the cargo we’re supposed to be salvaging.” Trance reached beneath the table and rested her hand on Harpers knee for just a moment, squeezing lightly. 

“Right now?”

“Yes! We wouldn’t have to do this today if you have listened to me yesterday!” He hadn’t meant to speak so loudly, Beka’s eyes narrowed as her gaze turned to him. 

“What do you mean if I had listened to you yesterday? What happened yesterday?!”

He refused to meet her eyes. It felt like he would die instantly if he did. Time slowed around them, his heartbeat thudding in his own ears. Memories choked him. Memories of Nietzschean’s, his family back on Earth, the Magog, even Beka ignoring him when he needed her most. He was drowning, suddenly and painfully and it didn’t make sense but that didn’t make it any less real. Feeling his whole body cringe and tense he stood, ducking through the door as quickly as his legs would carry him, avoiding a sulking Gerentex to slip into the engine room. 

Moving was a chore he couldn’t bring himself to accomplish. He was curled up on the upper engine level, having found a spot that let him see all the exits. He wasn’t even sure why the viewpoint was so comforting. 

Knees drawn up to his chest, arms secure across the aching limbs. According to the Maru’s internal clock, he’d been here for almost two hours. His legs gave another painful cramp against the prolonged position. He ignored it. 

Why had he reacted like that? It didn’t make any sense to him, he had been fine, and Beka hadn’t said anything that should have triggered his panic. In that moment it had been like reliving every painful moment of his life, of which there was plenty. But Beka had only asked about what happened yesterday. A perfectly normal question, considering how vague Trance had been. 

Could her reaction yesterday have impacted him more than he thought? He thought long and hard, able to conjure up images of Nietzschean assaults and Magog eggs wriggling in his beloved cousins stomachs. It wasn’t easy per say, but he could do it. Then he turned his thoughts to the bar. His friends reddened face, her glassy eyes, her lips moving, teeth glinting in the harsh artificial light. But he couldn’t hear her. He couldn’t see past a certain point without the whole thing feeling like something he’d read in a novel. 

Something that hadn’t happened to him. Something that had happened to someone else. 

He focused on recalling any other memories that had the same feeling. 

He was ten years old, staring up into the face of a Nietzschean man. He remembered how old he was because the man had asked. Ten, he would be eleven in four months. The man had a funny nose, he thought. He had an itch on his head, he wanted to reach up and scratch it, but at attempting to move he found his hands bound behind his back. That’s weird, he didn’t remember being handcuffed. The man was talking, voice sounding as underwater as he felt. 

Then, nothing. He remembered days after, and moments before, but nothing directly after. Turning back mentally to last night, things blurred together. Beka’s lips curled up, saying something unkind, a bone blade pressed into his neck, a sudden, unwelcome stab of sympathy for a brainwashed Nietzschean citizen. But nothing was quite clear. 

He thought maybe he’d been living with his brain like this for a decade. Memories turning into mush for the most part. But it had been almost a year. He’d been getting better. He’d made some friends, worked and enjoyed it, started talking again. He was better now! Right?

Another memory, this time of killing the Nietzschean, choking him with the very chains that had bound him for years, watching the life drain from those bulging eyes, spit dribbling from the parted, blubbering lips. That was clearer, not so hazed out, but he couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel his own glee that he knew he’d had. He couldn’t feel the spittle cooling against his shirt, the hard ground digging into his bony spine, the pain shooting through his bound ankles. 

He remember that he’d felt those things. But those weren’t his emotions. Those were the clever imitations found in a really good story. Close to the real thing, but not quite. 

Why couldn’t he feel them?

His legs once again ached at being so tightly pressed against his body, and this time he left them extend, knees feeling like they needed to be oiled. He was about to add the task to his mental checklist, stopping short. A small laugh escaped him. He was human. He had human joints, emotions, memories. 

Oil couldn’t fix him. 

One of the doors to the engine room hissed open, Trances purple skin glistening as she entered. 

“Harper?”

He didn’t respond verbally, settling for dragging the heel of his heavy boot over the metal grate, making a small noise. 

She looked up at him. “Beka is going to take us to slipstream in a minute.” He knew her well enough to know that she said Bekas name to gauge his reaction. But he was fine. 

Genuinely, the anguish that was tearing at his soul not seconds earlier was gone. Not replaced with anything, just gone. Leaving nothing in its wake. 

“Wanna come up?”

She climbed the ladder and sat next to him, turning to face him. 

“I know you might think that you’re fine.”

How the hell did she know that. 

“But Harper.” She paused for a long moment, taking his hand. “You’re allowed to not be fine.”

He was fine. Totally fine. That’s why her words hurt him. That’s why he cried with his head pressed against her chest, her thin arms holding him tightly. That’s why he clung to her like she was air and food and water, his lifeline. That’s why he cried and couldn’t even remember why. 

That’s why it hurt to see Beka, standing in the doorway to his quarters, telling him they’d arrived. Because he was fine. 

And so he smiled, ignoring the growing, unexplainable ache settled into his chest. 

“Harper, did you hear me?”

He went to nod, still staring at Beka, before he realized he hadn’t heard her. 

“Oh sorry boss, still a little out of it.”

“Well get over it Harper,” She didn’t sound unkind. She was smiling. His chest hurt. “We just made it to the cargo. Gerentex led us to the Andromeda, an old high guard ship. Do you realize what this means?!” She walked over to him and held out her palm. “We are gonna be rich!”

He high-fived her, watching her turn to leave. She still had her back to him when she stopped. 

“I’m sorry about whatever happened yesterday. I shouldn’t have gotten drunk.”

She turned and looked at him. 

“It won’t happened again.”

And with that she left. 

The ache grew even more, bumping against the inside of his ribcage. He walked to the bridge, trying to identify the irritating emotion. 

He stepped onto the bridge, spitting out an insult in response to Gerentex getting in his space, smiling at Trance, marveling at the Marus sensor readings. 

And then it hit him. 

“Alright, time to get her out of the gravity well!” 

Guilt. He was feeling guilt. 

But it didn’t matter, they deployed the bucky cables, hauling the Commonwealth warship out of her prison. And then they were off, boarding the relic that time forgot. 

But they weren’t alone. 

Harper was finally ignoring every other emotion in favor of focusing on excitement, getting off the Maru into the cargo hold of the massive ship. 

He ran to the nearest cargo hold, poking around for spare parts amidst the settled objects. 

“Hey, Trance, come in.”

“I’m here Harper.”

“How’s it going over there? Did you manage to find a ships schematic?”

“No, but I found an observation deck that’s filled with plants. It even looks like it’s equipped for an irrigation system. Harper it’s incredible, these plants have been extinct for years.”

She talked to him for another few minutes, just filling the emptiness in the air, and he loved her for it. 

But he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. That didn’t stop him from feeling relief as he pulled a schematic from a drawer. “If you want something done right.”

“You’ve got to do it yourself.”

A voice behind him finished his sentence. Before he could even think he was running, ducking below the weapon the man brandished. The very large man. 

And a very large weapon, it extended from handheld to a staff and lodged under his feet, tripping him. 

“What are you doing on my ship?”

The mans voice had calm, but the tip of his weapon was still jabbed in his face. 

“Your ship?! This is our ship!”

He pictured Bekas proclamation of riches. No way he was giving that up. Especially not once he saw the smooth forearms of the man. 

“We salvaged it fair and square!”

“Salvaged? Hah! This is a Commonwealth starship you can’t just come aboard and claim it.”

Well that was confusing. 

“Commonwealth? The Commonwealth hasn’t been around for centuries. Who are you anyway?”

The weapon’s tip got closer to him, he scooted back. 

“I am Captain Dylan Hunt, Commander of this Vessel.”

He didn’t wait for Mr Greek God to make anymore moves, scrambling to his feet and finding Beka and Trance in the hallway. “Boss I’m telling you he was huge. He said this was his ship! I say we make a run for it.”

“A run for it!?”

Gerentex snarled. 

The Captains voice came over the systems speakers, proclaiming his desire to have them return control to his ship. Harper didn’t love the commanding tone, partly because it made him nervous and partly because he didn’t like some douchebag old man telling him what to do. 

Beka didn’t seem to like it either, brandishing her weapon. Gerentex too agreed, voicing his concern. That wasn’t at all what bothered Harper. What bothered him was what happened next. 

“Which is why I brought him along.”

A group of soldiers, dressed in black stood in the doorway. And at the front of them was a giant, muscles rippling beneath his chainmail shirt, suffocatingly close to him Nietzschean. Holding a gigantic gun. Harper moved behind Trance, then behind Beka, putting as much distance between himself and the man as possible. 

But surprisingly, the Nietzschean ignored him, moving past their small group toward the bridge. 

The fight was about to start, and goddammit, he wasn’t looking forward to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i use writing as a coping mechanism. i havent experienced anything nearly as bad as harper in this story, but still, thats why i write. its also why i read things like this. if youre not in the same boat, thats fine, i still hope you enjoy my story of pain and recovery. 
> 
> if you are like me, my words to you are these. 
> 
> its okay to not be fine. <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry shorter chapter, but im gonna do a Dylan POV chapter next which will also kinda be short probably but,,, idk im rewriting the first two episodes entirely.

Harper disabled the internal sensors, allowing the Nietzschean and his soldiers to move around undetected. He didn’t like thinking about wandering around the ship without Beka and Trance, but better without them than with the Nietzschean on the bridge. 

Beka hailed him. 

“Listen Harper you’re going to have to get to the bridge.”

Shit. 

Walking onto the bridge, he felt the eyes of the Nietzschean trained on his back. Thank god Trance was there, standing between him and the rest of the room as he ripped open a control panel. 

He worked as quickly as he could, but the Nietzscheans boots were coming closer, he could feel the panic rising in his chest. 

“Hurry up little man. We don’t have much time.”

“Hey don’t tell me what to do!” He tried to turn his anxiety into anger. It was kinda working. 

“What Harper means to say is, give us some space.”

Trance moved forward, further barricading him. He kept working, trying to tune out the sounds of bickering between the purple angel and the man from hell. 

When he finally left Harper jumped to his feet, pulling Trance back into the corner. “Have you found out anything about him?”

She nodded. “He’s Tyr Anasazi of Kodiak Pride. Apparently his Pride was destroyed in a clan war, so he’s trying to prove his genetic worth. It’s kinda sad.”

“Sad?!” He stared at the man across the bridge. “Who cares. Dead Nietzscheans are good Nietzscheans.”

“Harper!” She laid her hand on his arm. “He’s not Drago-Kazov. He’s just a lost man looking for family.”

“Well he ain’t gonna find it here.”

“Not all Nietzscheans are the same. I can sense something about him. He’s got kindness in his heart. I can tell he would never do the things they did to you.”

He stood, keeping a wary eye on Tyr. He did trust trance, but at this point it didn’t matter what she said. He didn’t feel safe having any Nietzschean around, Drago-Kazov or not. 

A faint explosion sounded from somewhere below him, followed immediately by Beka over the comms. “Harper, Trance, we need to talk.”

They sat in the corner where he was working, talking low to avoid the prying ears of their Nightsider friend. 

“I don’t think he wanted to kill me, he even warned me about the explosion!” Beka gestured, smoothing back her hair. 

“I’m getting the feeling we are on the wrong side of this.” Trance flit her eyes around the room settling back on them. 

He didn’t know what to think. All of a sudden he was overwhelmed. Were they suggesting allowing the crazy captain to keep his ship? Gerentex wouldn’t let that happen. 

“I’m on Beka’s side. Not Gerentex, not this Dylan Hunt guy.”

“Well I,” Trance stood. “Think we should break our contract and let the captain keep his ship.”

“Oh you do, do you?”

Crap. 

Gerentex snarled, arms folded as he walked towards them. 

“Nightsider hearing. Makes up for the eyes.”

“I meant what I said. I’m leaving.” She turned pleading eyes to Harper, but he looked away. He couldn’t stand to meet her gaze. 

“Well then, be my guest.”

That made his head snap up. The Nightsider was gesturing to the door, his back partially to them. 

“In fact, let me lend you a hand.”

He whipped around, shooting Trance square in the chest. 

“No!” Harper went for his weapon, but Bekas hand stopped his movement. 

He ran to her side, her beautiful eyes shut, her chest still, no breathing, no heart beat. 

“Mr Harper, if I’m not mistaken, your work here is done.”

“Yeah. Yeah I’m done.”

He couldn’t look away. One minute he’d been ashamed to meet her eye, and now he was begging to. She was his best friend. In the short time he’d known her they’d grown even closer than himself and Beka. She was his lifeline, and when she’d needed him most he’d let her down. He almost couldn’t touch her, but he did, her lavender skin still warm beneath his fingertips. But warm wasn’t right either, she was normally burning hot. 

Harper reached a hand behind her head, cradling his dearest friend to his chest. He heard Beka move away, followed by the footsteps of the soldiers. 

“Please Trance just wake up! Come on please! Please!” He held her to him, eyes squeezed shut. 

“Come on little man.”

His heart skipped a beat. That was the Nietzschean, and a quick peek revealed they were alone. 

“No. No I can’t leave her.”

“Get up.”

“No!”

The Nietzschean grabbed him, one hand clenched in his shirt, lifting him from the ground. 

His fear consumed him. He didn’t want to leave Trance, but bone blades poked out from beneath the mans grip, his dark eyes staring him down. 

“Okay okay fine.”

The mans grip on his shirt eased, and he reluctantly followed the Nietzschean off the bridge. Reminding himself that there were no chains around his ankles, no heavy metal collar weighing at his neck. He may have just lost his best friend, but he still had his freedom. 

And no freaking Nietzschean gun for hire was gonna take that from him. 

He caught up with Beka, sharing a distraught look. 

“As I was saying.” Gerentex looked between the two of them. “You,” He pointed a hairy finger at Harper. “Come with me.” 

“What?!”

“Just go Harper. It’ll be fine.” 

Beka nodded to him, one hand on her holstered weapon. She was telling him she would be okay. It wasn’t her he was worried about. Beka could handle herself. This insane bastard just killed Trance, what was stopping Rat Face from killing him too?

Gerentex grunted. 

“Fine fine I’ll come with you. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

He followed Gerentex through the Andromeda’s hallways, into the cargo bay where the Maru sat. 

“What are we doing here.”

Gerentex pulled his weapon, aiming right art Harpers forehead. 

“Woah what are you doing?!”

“You’re going to pilot us off this wreck so we can push it back into the black hole.”

“Fuck you!”

He held his hands up anyway, grimacing as the barrel of the gun was shoved into his head. 

“Get us out of here or I’ll kill you.”

He couldn’t kill him. He wouldn’t have a pilot. 

“You won’t kill me, how will you get out of here if you do? You need me.”

“Do it or I’ll call your little Nietzschean pals over at the Drago-Kazov Pride.” The man leaned in close, horrendous breath ghosting over Harpers ear. “I’ve heard they’re looking for you.”

That got him moving. He stopped right outside the Maru. 

He tried not to think about Beka, dying in a black hole, clutching Trance’s body. He was failing. 

“Hey I need you to go down to the engine room and make sure the readout is green, can you do that?”

Gerentex snarled. “Fine, but be warned little man, I can hear you from anywhere.” It didn’t matter. Not only was that an important part of take off, but it gave him enough time to leave a message for Beka. A nonverbal message. One only she would understand. 

He quickly slipped into the Andromeda via his data port. 

“Intruder.”

The ships avatar glared at him. 

“I’m trying to save all of our sorry asses. Let me leave a message for my friend. You heard Gerentex he’s gonna push you back into the black hole!”

“Dylan will stop him.”

“BEKA will stop him! If you let me get a message to her.”

“Fine. Talk. I won’t guarantee she’ll get it.”

He started signing, which appeared to amuse the interface. 

“You got that?”

“Yes I recorded your message. Now get out.”

The system kicked him out with a smile. Back in the real world, he rubbed at his neck for a second before quickly entering the Maru. 

He hoped to God that Beka would get his message. Otherwise, he’d be responsible for the deaths of everyone on board. Including Beka. 

Climbing into the pilots seat he Silently begged Andromeda to relay his message. It was the only hope he had.


End file.
